


The Forest of Arden

by gawiel



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-07-01 02:33:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15764814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gawiel/pseuds/gawiel
Summary: In the dark corner of the Lamb and Flag, Jakes imparted his skills of flirtation, and Morse tried to decide whether or not to kiss those lips so near to him.





	The Forest of Arden

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [The Forest of Arden](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15772758) by [Radiose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radiose/pseuds/Radiose)



> *Inspired, obviously, by Shakespeare's As You Like It.  
> **English is my second language, so I can only hope that there is no ghastly grammar mistake. Beta would be very much appreciated!

"There's a chick looking at ya. Over there." Jakes returned with more beer and made a school-boyish comment, with a school-boyish chuckle.

"She's probably looking at _you_ ," Morse emphasized the last word, pointing to his much better dressed and groomed colleague. Morse knew that his own gentle manners had impressed some women and won him a few kisses, but Jakes' dashy appearance was far more popular among girls in the pubs.

"Bollocks, at my back?" The latter grinned and quickly dismissed Morse's implausible guess, lighting a cigarette before stretching out his limbs, "hey, I say, you really got a chance there."

Morse had to concede that Jakes was right, but he only halfheartedly grunted: "Oh, never mind. I'm a lousy mess after all these pints."

But Jakes seemed still keen on this - definitely more keen than Morse himself. He insisted: "Ah, com'on, what's the matter? You don't like women or something?"

"It's not like that."

Just not a womanizer, Morse thought to himself. He was more or less nonchalant to Jakes' self-boasting tales of romance - a young man of his charm ought to have some fun before settling down, it was practically the obligation of bachelors. However, unlike Jakes, Morse had no interest in regaling the pub crowd with thrilling whodunits, though he could not deny that danger had its allure.

"You're too shy," Jakes diagnosed, " I say we need to sort you out with a bird."

Morse feebly protested with some nonsensical sounds and a retrieved attention to the pleasing ale in his palms. He did not understand why Jakes was suddenly enthusiastic about this. Perhaps he thought he was doing Morse a favour. Over the few years they had grown much more tolerating towards, or even slightly fond of, each other. Morse had earned his keep and Jakes got the better of his own petty jealousy. The two of them shared most of the legwork and paperwork, which constituted most of the work in the CID.  
Tonight might be one of the occasions where Jakes decided to show some ill-fitting kindness and camaraderie, that's all.

Morse's thoughts were just about to drift away when Jakes nudged him on the forearm, "com'on, I'll show you how to get a girl. Just pretend you're the girl." He put down the lingering cigarette on the rim of the ashtray, his eyes glittering with the expectation of some harmless laughs.

Morse clung to his beer, but he didn't object to this childish suggestion.

"Hey love, mind if I sit here?" Jakes sprung into action and moved to Morse's side, in a feigned yet surprisingly flattering manner.

"Fine by me." Playing along, Morse responded, with the lukewarmness that he imagined he himself would receive from "the girl". This make-believe wooing game reminded him of "As You Like It," the Shakespeare play that he went to last week in the quad of Lonsdale, and he couldn't help smirking at the adolescent silliness. Love is merely a madness, to quote the Bard.

"Do you come here often?"

"Do women really respond to this kind of cliche?" Morse mocked, but he did respond, more to Jakes' solicitous gaze than to his dreary pick-up line.

"Then you pretend that the pub is too loud and you have to speak into her ears." Simultaneously, Jakes approached Morse, his breath causing the latter a sudden quiver of some unnameable want.  
With his chin close to Morse's shoulder, Jakes was almost proud to observe the effect of his tomcat skillfulness on Morse, who now appeared even more awkward like the bookish college boy he was.  
Jakes couldn't possibly know that Morse's awkwardness came mostly from his painful awareness that he had, indeed, been aroused. Although it was never Jakes who played the role of the seductress in his bedtime fantasy, his skin couldn't help but reacting with goose pimples to this long-awaited intimacy with another warm, breathing, inviting body. His ear burned with alcohol and the brushing touch of Jakes' cigarette-infused breath, and the whispering vibrato of the languid baritone was as encouraging as it was mesmerising. Not to mention those lips that spoke them.

His blush was but an invitation to more teasing.

"If she doesn't turn away, this is when you ask her for a dance. You gotta take the lead, like this." Jakes slipped a hand behind Morse's back, threatening to move downward.

Morse was deadly embarrassed. He very carefully shunned away to stop Jakes from discovering his arousal.

"There you go. Girls can't get enough of this." Jakes concluded, withdrawing like a fencer just awarded an attack. He took up the cigarette for some final puffs while Morse fled to his beer.

"Do they really." Morse responded, begrudgingly, unable to figure out what was the attractive element about all this silly business to girls, or, to him.

"You'll be surprised." Jakes grinned.

Morse was.

Jakes pressed the cigarette butt into the ashtray and proceeded to the finishing stroke of his school-boy love lesson: "Now when you dance like this, you really get to see whether she wants to kiss you." He drew himself again near Morse, peacocking in his smooth gestures, eyes downcast with that silly grin of his.

Morse blamed it on the beer that he was too drunk to care. In the forest of Arden where girls pose as boys and Ganymede flirts with Orlando nothing really matters. Now am I in Arden; the more fool I'd be.

It was only natural that Morse, at that moment, responded with a peck on Jakes' lips, which briefly evolved into a fervent press. They were so near each other that it hardly took any effort. The warm tingles were tempting and promising; it was the kind of touch that categorically lead to something more.

Jakes seemed confused for a moment. He paused, unconsciously licking his lips, as if he didn't think of this outcome of his marvelous demonstration of the art of flirtation.

"It worked."  
Morse mumbled, as if that could explain what had just happened.

 

FIN


End file.
